P A S S A G E
Sequel to Privilege

A/N: Whoa, been a while. Sorry about that. Stuff and excuses, etc. On to the fic!

Recap:

"Samantha." The voice was a harsh whisper.

Sam flinched slightly, and Martin stood up.

"… Dina says hi."

C h a p t e r N i n e
Spiral

. - . - . - .

Martin called it in. Sam tried, but she couldn't form the words. She couldn't form any words at all, and she slumped against her kitchen chair, head in her hands. Martin, who'd expected her to jump for the door, wasn't sure whether to be grateful or alarmed.

She didn't even twitch when he snapped his phone shut. He gently set it on the table beside the Chinese takeout leftovers and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Jack and Viv are on their way to Dina's apartment. They'll call us if they find something." He paused, waited for her to protest.

She did not.

"Jack wants us to stay here."

Still nothing.

"He's afraid that this is just a distraction and that Hirsch – "

"Will take the opportunity to grab me in the confusion. Yes, Martin, I also have a badge."

Martin looked down.

"He won't."

"Sam."

"He won't. He enjoys this too much. He enjoys it." Her voice grew harsh, and she looked up angrily. "He enjoys it, he enjoys it all."

. - . - . - .

Dina Kingston's door was shut and locked properly. No blood stained the paint or the carpet. Jack knocked once, impatiently, and shouted, "FBI!" Then, not bothering with the mandatory hesitation, he shoved the door open and entered the apartment, Viv right behind him.

"Clear," he called. Vivian went to check the bathroom.

A faint cry came from behind a closed door on Jack's right. The door was decorated with Sesame Street coloring book pictures, dull outlines covered in crayon, and a bright yellow sign on the doorknob said Come on in!

Jack eased against the wall and adjusted his grip on his gun.

The cry came again, a muffled, whimpering sound.

Vivian rejoined him. When he glanced at her, she nodded and together they burst into Kelly's room.

. - . - . - .

"She was just getting her life back together, you know? Things… Things were good, Martin."

"Sam, you can't make this your fault."

"Don't tell me what I can do."

"You need to – "

"Don't tell me what I need to do! Damn it, Martin!"

Martin fell silent again.

Sam closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Martin watched her sink into her hands again and bit his lip. He wanted so much to touch her; he was afraid of how she might react. He was glad she hadn't tried to leave, worried that she still wasn't fighting him about it. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach for Dina Kingston, and fear for Sam made his breathing shallow. All of his senses were heightened and tingling and waiting, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how Sam was feeling.

"Richard G. Hirsch," Sam whispered, "is a psychotic obsessional stalker."

Martin wasn't sure what to say.

"He is rapist, and he is a murderer."

It was horrible, but it was true, and Martin knew better than to say otherwise.

"Dina Kingston is a good person." Sam paused. "Her… her abduction… is not my fault." She met Martin's gaze, eyes tired but stubborn, almost apathetic.

Martin waited, uncertain, not sure where she was going with this.

"It's not my fault, Martin… but can you say this would have happened if he wasn't after me?"

"Sam…" Martin's protest died as he searched for a way to say what he needed to without sounding like an FBI agent.

"You can't," she mumbled into her hands. "It's not my fault…but it's my responsibility." She stood up and began to pace.

Martin didn't think he wanted to know what was coming.

"She won't be at the apartment," Sam said abruptly, half to herself. "She'll be somewhere that's familiar to him. Somewhere he feels powerful. The phone call…" She stumbled on the edge of the rug and caught herself, her thoughts drifting off to somewhere Martin couldn't follow. He watched helplessly, feeling less and less in control.

He could tell the moment she started seriously considering the idea. "Samantha, I will not let you trade yourself for her."

"Of course not, Martin. I trust you."

"You –"

"I won't have to go with him. We just have to make him think I will."

"It's too much of a –"

"A what? A risk?" Her voice bordered on hysterical. "What, Martin? I think Dina is the one who should be worried about the risk right now!" She whirled away and paced to the window, hands twisting restlessly on the sill. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against the frosty pain and looked out at the white-dusted street.

Her eyes narrowed. "Where is he, Martin?"

"We'll find her."

"What is he doing to her. Right now. What's he doing? Where…"

Martin's phone buzzed on the tabletop. He reached for it, but Sam snatched it up first. He blinked; he hadn't even seen her turn away from the window.

"Yeah?"

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"… We've got Dina."

Sam raised a hand to her mouth. "What? Is… is she okay?"

His voice was cut and hollow in her ear. "She will be, but Sam…"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, but… Kelly is missing."

The phone clattered to the floor.

. - . - . - .